Brand New Day
by swatkat
Summary: Cuddy loves Mondays. Cuddy, gen, 745 words


**_Cuddy, gen, 745 words. For the Housefic50 prompt 'Beginnings'. Unbeta'd; your comments and critique appreciated, as always._**

**Brand New Day**

-

It's Monday. Cuddy loves the beginning of the week – looks forward to it eagerly. She wakes up a little early that day; runs a little harder; and everything feels bright and fresh and full of new possibilities as she makes her way to the hospital at seven in the morning.

Even the hospital seems to _shine_ a little more on these Monday mornings. Cuddy signs in, deposits her bag in her office and goes for her rounds, smiling cheerfully at anyone who happens to pass by. Generally, Brenda is the only one who returns her smile in earnest, everyone else having been afflicted by the fabled Monday blues. And truth be told, Cuddy does receive a perverse sort of pleasure out of watching her employees and fellow doctors slink in miserably to their respective offices every Monday morning, clutching their coffee-cups like lifeline.

Which is of course the reason she makes it a point to schedule House for the clinic the first thing in the morning.

'Brenda, is Dr. House in yet?'

Brenda merely stares in reply.

Cuddy smiles. 'Well, do let me know when he cares to grace the hospital with his presence.

'Of course,' says Brenda, grimly. She treats her House-sitting duties with utmost seriousness; House picked the wrong nurse to harass on her first day at work. All the more reason to keep her in charge of the clinic, Cuddy thinks as she heads for her office, all ready to take on the brand new day.

-

By the time Brenda does call, Cuddy is buried neck-deep in paperwork; it takes her a moment to comprehend what Brenda is talking about.

'I said, Dr. House just signed in.'

Cuddy glances at her watch. It's eleven-fifteen. She sighs. 'Right. Thanks. Keep an eye on him,' she adds, even though she knows that it's unnecessary.

She will deal with him after she's done with this, she thinks, and concentrates on the task at hand.

At eleven-forty five Brenda calls again: 'Dr. House just left the clinic. He treated two patients. One of them was crying.'

'Do you know – '

'Esther says he went in the direction of the cafeteria,' Brenda says, before Cuddy can finish her question.

'Of course. Thank you, Brenda.'

It's Monday morning; the reviews are nowhere near done, and she is already _tired_ of paperwork.

She heads for the cafeteria.

-

House is outside in the sun, sitting alone in a table with enough food for two. His usual partner-in-crime is nowhere to be seen.

She stands in front of his table. He doesn't look up.

'You're supposed to be treating patients.'

'Can't,' he mumbles between bites. 'M on my lunch-break.'

'It's eleven-fifty,' she points out.

'It's an _early_ lunch-break,' he says, patronizingly, before returning to his food.

She just stands there, without saying anything.

After a beat: 'Are you just going to stand there staring at my food? It's making me _uncomfortable_', House says, in a highly-pitched voice. 'And while you're here, do something about the food in this place, will you? This meatloaf is just _terrible_.' He makes a face.

'House. Clinic.'

'You're no fun,' he says, finally. His pout, she notes, has grown pretty impressive; he must be practicing.

'Five minutes,' she says, biting back the grin of triumph.

'I'll need at least half an hour to finish my lunch. My doctor told me that I'm supposed to chew my food properly. It's good for my digestion. I'm sure you know, being a doctor and all – wait, what is it that you do again?'

He never tires of the doctor crack. Too bad it doesn't work on her. Mostly.

'Ten minutes, House.'

'Fifteen.'

'Fine, fifteen.' And she turns around and walks away, firmly ignoring his yelled 'LOVE the top.' She is grinning when she leaves.

Sometimes, she thinks that if House didn't exist, she might actually have been forced to invent him on her own. Not that she has any intention of telling him that.

'Dr. House is in exam one,' her new assistant (John? James? George?) informs her, fifteen minutes later.

'Thank you,' she says. And then, on an impulse: 'Make sure they serve me their meatloaf with my usual lunch, will you? I have been hearing some complaints about the food.'

The assistant nods, and leaves, looking a little bewildered, wondering no doubt why his normally reticent boss is beaming at him all of a sudden.

Her grin grows a little wider. She loves Mondays.

-


End file.
